The Sun Soaked Seasons
by bombalurima
Summary: Little snippets throughout Mai and Zuko's lives together. A one-shot, but strung together with mini-drabbles.


_I wrote this fic for my KF fiance for Christmas. :DD_

_It's not often that I get so touched with a fic, or with a pairing in a work of fiction for that matter. Maiko is truly, to me, the ultimate. No other couple, no other characters, have sparked such a love and an interest in me before._

_To me, Maiko is, to what it all boils down to, simple, raw beauty. _

_This song (or rather, this version of the song) was the inspiration for this fic: /watch?v=68dLRzG3Sh4_

_This fic doesn't have a particular rhyme or reason to it-it's more or less little snippets throughout Mai and Zuko's lives, some fairly important ones, all wrapped up with a big bow and looking pretty and shiny. It doesn't follow an order, and it doesn't work the same way a lot of fics tend to do-as Maiko doesn't work the same way a lot of other couples do. 33333_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Mai has never held hands with someone before.

Her mother has occasionally yanked her by it, tugging her and pulling her places. But no one has ever held it before. She is eight years old, and considers this fact a little sad.

She is holding the Prince Zuko's hand now. They are sitting by the turtleduck pond, watching the little animals swim and quack, and he looks as happy as she feels.

They merely sit in silence, saying nothing, and yet saying everything. They are happy just to be together.

For now, that is all that matters.

* * *

It is impossible to kiss him and not feel it.

This must be what the heat of the sun tastes like, what it might be like to swallow fire and not have it burn, but rather, warm and light.

She shudders sometimes when his lips meet her's, and usually can't hold back a quiet groan. He pulls away, quiet confusion visible on his face.

He asks her if something is wrong.

Everything is right.

Mai cannot imagine loving anyone but Zuko. The idea is as incomprehensible as a gloomy Ty Lee or rain in the desert—it simply can't happen. It simply doesn't exist.

He _is_ her existence. She wraps her arms around him and she can feel it, her heart beating in her chest, pounding out his name and only his name.

For so long, she was scared it was cold. Close to dead. Nothing.

It beats now, strong and sure in her chest, so blissfully happy. So blissfully content.

* * *

Zuko tells her that he loves her once, the very first time he says so out loud to her, and a blush rises on her face. A smile accompanies it, transforming her into the direct opposite of the sour-faced girl she once was, her beauty evident in the light of the dying sun reflecting on the water behind them.

His face lights up at her blush, at the way she suddenly looks down, and simply cannot help himself. Zuko moves his head forward and rests it on her breast, just over her heart.

"What are you doing?" She manages to ask through her dizzy, joyful thoughts.

He doesn't answer, but closes his eyes. Not only can he feel her breathe—but he can hear her heart beat. It may be the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

Mai wraps her arms around him, anchoring him to her. She doesn't ask any further questions, but looks out at the ocean waves.

* * *

Zuko is absolutely beautiful. Mai cannot bring herself to say it out loud just yet, but she certainly thinks it.

She sucks in her breath sometimes when he slides his clothes off, and oftentimes, her sigh of longing goes unsuppressed.

His skin (just like cream, and just as sweet to the taste) is pale, but marred here and there with scars, the results of his hardships during his banishment. The largest one is of course the one Azula gave him—the wound just above his stomach; a permanent reminder of what was nearly lost to achieve his destiny of becoming the Fire Lord.

Mai has kissed every one of the scars on his body, each one marking a different incident that she was not present for. Zuko's breath hitches every time she comes to the one below his chest, and the sound of it sends a thrill up her spine.

There isn't an inch of him that she hasn't traveled, not a bit of flesh that hasn't been stroked or kissed by her fingers or mouth. Zuko is her's, this she knows. He knows it too.

Mai sits up on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist, and gazes at Zuko in the light of the full moon streaming in through their open window. One hand is resting on his stomach, his fingers raised slightly to graze her thigh. The other arm is cast up above his head. He has a content, utterly blissful smile on his face now, his eyes (even the damaged one) shining with the warm glow of love and happiness.

She takes him in, every square inch of him, and catches her breath before bringing her lips to his for a kiss. He responds eagerly, his fingers twining in her silky hair, and they sigh into each other, their breaths becoming one, their hearts beating against one another and in unison—they are as close to being one person as is possible.

* * *

It takes her a little while—but finally, the words fight their way out of Mai's heart and dance from her lips.

"I love you."

Zuko, holding her in his arms, gives a little start. He is sure he must have heard wrong. He does not doubt that Mai loves him—but she prefers to show, rather than tell. The words, he was fairly positive, simply would never leave her mouth.

"I love you," She repeats, looking up into his eyes, and he knows it is no trick of his imagination now. This is as real as it comes.

* * *

Mai is tired, so very tired. Sweat is trickling down her pale face, strands of her raven hair sticking unpleasantly to her forehead. She feels as if she has just ran a thousand miles—and then some.

"You did it, Mai," Zuko murmurs in a voice cracked with joy into her ear. "You _did it."_

Mai hears the cries as the midwives bustle about and clean the newborn up—and she manages a smile. She is too exhausted to speak right now, but she squeezes Zuko's hand, to let him know she heard.

"You have a son, my Lord…" One of the women informs Zuko, and through her weariness, Mai feels a jolt of pride and joy. Soundlessly, she holds her arms out.

Within moments, there is a tiny but solid weight in her eyes, and she opens her eyes to look down at him. He is an odd sort of pink-ish color, with a fairly decent mop of dark hair crowning his soft head. His little hands are curled into fists, the miniature fingers are an absolute wonder to her.

He is quiet now, burrowing into his mother's warmth. Mai kisses the top of his head, and looks up to meet Zuko's gaze. He has tears in his eyes. She can understand this.

Together, they have made a little person. They have made a little person who will one day grow up, who will one day wear the crown his father has now. He will produce more children of his own, will carry on the legacy that the Fire Nation's current royal couple is leaving in their wake.

He is a product of their own flesh and blood. He is something of their own creation, something of their very own.

Mai previously thought it had been impossible for anything in the world to be more beautiful than Zuko. She was wrong.

* * *

She is holding his hand now. It is wrinkled and gnarled, but so is her own. They each still wear their wedding bands—they have not taken them off since the day of their marriage.

Zuko coughs once, and she brings a hand to his face, resting it on the scar he received so long ago on a much younger, smoother face. He brings a shaking hand up to rest on top of it.

She looks at him and sees his shock of pure white hair, sees the cloudy eyes sunken into the crags of his face, and sees his weak chest fluttering, his lungs working desperately to bring air into his body. But in her mind, she can also see the strong, handsome, young man that had so entranced her so long ago—and still does.

"My Lady?" The Fire Sage turns to look at Mai, still elegant-looking even in her old age, and mutters quietly, "You'll have to say goodbye. There's nothing more we can do for him."

Mai does not give him a verbal answer. He had only repeated something she had already known. Ignoring the Sage's start of surprise, she crawls up onto her husband's sickbed, and nestles in next to him, resting her head on his chest.

He goes on to die in her arms later. She holds him in her frail, skinny arms until every last drop of warmth has faded from his body.

It surprises her later to see that the sun is still hanging in the sky.

* * *

Mai can feel her heart spluttering away, working the best that it can in a wild attempt to pump life through her veins. She rests a hand on her chest and coughs once, her heart going slightly haywire.

There are Sages and medics of all sorts scurrying around her, her children, grandchildren, and even a great-grandchild or two all gathered in the room as well. They have come to see her off.

Mai knows that this is the end, and does not feel any kind of pain or bitterness. Rather, a cool feeling of relief washes over her, and she closes her eyes, letting the current take her.

It may be her imagination—but she can swear, just as the waves wash over her head, she feels a warm pair of lips brush against her own and whisper in a voice that dances through every one of her dreams:

"Hello, darling. We'll meet again soon. I promise you this."

* * *

_An ornery-looking dark-haired man pushes his way along the aisle of the monorail, ignoring the chatter of the Ba Sing Se citizens around him. He came here for a new life, not to socialize._

_The monorail is crowded today, and there does not appear to be anywhere to sit. Holding back the urge to growl in frustration, he looks from side to side—and notices a free seat._

_"Is this seat taken?" He asks the woman lounging there. She is pretty, with brown hair and cool green eyes, and she watches him with indifference as he takes a seat next to her._

_The man sits, moving his pack into his lap, and as he does so, the hat he has resting on top of it slides off and falls to the floor._

_Both he and the woman next to him reach to pluck it up at the same time—and their hands brush._

_They each recoil as if they have been burned. He picks his hat up, and they look away from one another, hearts suddenly beating impossibly quickly._

_The man shudders slightly. During their moment of contact, a sudden jolt of familiarity hit him—as if he had known this woman once before._

_The woman shivers. For a moment, she tasted the sun._


End file.
